


Love Letters

by wlw_phillie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Break Up, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 10:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlw_phillie/pseuds/wlw_phillie
Summary: He can’t throw a lighted match onto something already searing holes through his skull.





	Love Letters

Phil can taste the bitter smoke in the air. He feels the embers that sting his skin and make his eyes water. He can feel his heart drumming and the blood rushing up from his toes to his fingertips. He hears the buzzing in his brain and the ringing in his ears mixed with the crackling fire. He is feeling everything to an intolerable extent, causing his palms and temples to sweat.

Standing there, watching the blue and orange flame twist into the air, the world around him seems to shimmer.

He tells himself that this is the only way to move on. Burn it, burn it all so there’s nothing to feel nostalgic over. Turn everything to ashes so he has nothing left to hang on to.

Phil won’t admit, however, that he knows this won’t work. He still still clings onto the memories. Boxes upon boxes of them stored neatly in his brain, spilling everywhere when he dares to take a peek.

Phil can’t burn away memories, unfortunately. He can’t throw a lighted match onto something already searing holes through his skull.

\---

Phil arrives home at a hideous hour of the morning with nothing more than bloodshot eyes and an empty cardboard box hugged to his chest. The corners of the box dig into the crook of his elbow and sternum, but his body is tired and his skin feels numb.

He barely makes it to the lounge before he collapses into the couch. Phil sighs, feeling as if he hasn’t taken a full breath since the morning before. He lets his head fall back against the cushions as his eyelids slip closed.

Phil quickly falls into a dreamless sleep with an arm wrapped loosely around the cardboard box.

\---

The jingling of keys and the sound of a door clicking open is what causes Phil to wake. His mind immediately sets off an alarm that says _Someone is breaking in and this is your last moment alive. What are your dying wishes, Phil?_

“Good morning,” a voice says from behind Phil, causing him to jump a bit.

“Mmm, not so much,” Phil responds with a shrug, calming immediately after realizing who the intruder was. He hears Dan snort, almost able to see the smirk on his dimpled face.

“Well,” Dan says as he settles next to Phil, “I brought you a coffee and some pancakes à la Dan.” He holds up a silver thermos and a plate of pancakes covered with cling-film that had fogged up from the steam.

Phil hums a _thank you_ , taking the thermos and plate and setting them carefully on the the coffee table. His body movements are slow and he grimaces at just the slight twist of his torso.

“Jesus Christ, you look horrible, Phil,” Dan says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get any sleep last night? I know you’re upset but it looks like you haven’t slept in a fucking week and I-”

“I went and burned them last night,” Phil nearly whispers, waving a hand toward the box laying sideways underneath the coffee table.

Dan’s mouth, stuck mid-sentence, goes slack as his eyes follow Phil’s hand to the box.

“I just… I couldn’t stand seeing them all the time so I just, well...” Phil makes a vague gesture with both hands, but Dan nods in understanding.

Dan shakes his head and lets out a breathy chuckle. “God, Phil, I can’t believe you did that. Where did you even go to burn them? I told you not to do it, but I guess it’s too late now,” he says.

Phil opens his mouth to answer the question or just say something to break the silence, but he can’t seem to form any words. Instead, he reaches underneath the table for the empty box and sets it onto his lap.

The box isn’t quite empty. Strewn throughout the bottom and sides is vibrantly colored glitter, the brightness of it seeming to mock Phil. At the center, a single, stray, crimson ribbon and a scarlet heart sticker.

Phil’s brow has furrowed, his chest tightening, and he can feel Dan’s eyes on him. Dan’s hands are suddenly clutching the flaps of the box, quickly but gently closing it and pulling the box from Phil’s shaking grasp.

Phil’s body starts to feel even more tense as a sudden flood of memories invade his head. Warm hands and bright laughter. Curly, chocolate hair and a pair of emerald eyes. Good things. Things that make Phil’s heart grow ten sizes and his cheeks bloom pink.

But then there’s bad. So much bad that it’s like a bolt of lighting straight down Phil’s spine. Cruel words and slamming doors. Cold stares and tension that couldn’t be cut with the sharpest knife.

At some point, after what seems like hours, Phil feels large hands on his shoulders that shake him out of his trance and hears a voice repeating his name over and over again.

Phil blinks, trying to place himself back to awareness of where he is. He feels wetness rolling down his cheeks, saltiness hitting his lips. Suddenly there are sobs racking his body and warm arms are wrapped around his shoulders.

Phil feels himself being pulled to Dan’s chest and nearly topples Dan over as he collapses into him. Large hands are pressing into his back and rubbing up and down gently.

“Shh, Phil, you’re okay,” Dan says, barely audible over Phil’s choking sobs. “I’m here. It’s okay. He was a dick anyways. You deserve more than him and you know it. I know you do.”

Through Phil’s crying, he laughs slightly at the utter stupidity of the whole situation. Sitting here on the couch, probably soaking Dan’s sweater with tears and making the neighbors more concerned than they usually are. Crying over a boy with the universe in his eyes and words that cut Phil too deep.

“Are you… laughing?” Dan asks, pulling away from Phil and placing his hands on Phil’s shoulders.

Phil sniffles and wipes his tear-soaked face with the hem of his t-shirt. His face feels like it’s burning and his throat is raw from crying for what feels like hours. Phil shakes his head, hoping to clear it some, and looks at Dan with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

“Yeah,” Phil says after sucking in a breath. “It’s stupid, I know. I’m just… upset and tomorrow’s… you know. And I was kind of, well, looking forward to it.” Phil’s voice falters, feeling embarrassed as his face grows impossibly hotter.

This time, it’s Dan’s turn to laugh. It’s loud and high-pitched and, for some reason, it makes Phil almost smile for some reason.

“Phil, oh my god, this isn’t about-” Phil nods. “Oh my god, Phil!” Dan nearly shrieks. “Valentine’s Day is a fucking capitalist holiday endorsed by companies to get more money, _please_ stop obsessing over it. If you’re upset about being alone, I’m always at your apartment anyways. So…” Dan elbows Phil in his side as he raises an eyebrow, making Phil roll his eyes.

It’s true, though, and they both know it. Dan practically _lives_ at Phil’s house because of how often he comes over and ends up falling asleep on the couch. They had even considered moving in together, or more so Dan moving in, but there was always an unspoken worry of that not working out.

“Yes, Dan, I know. You and your opposition to holidays like Valentine’s Day is understood,” Phil says mockingly. Dan tries to keep an annoyed expression, but his lips manage to turn upwards and into a wide grin.

Dan abruptly stands up, making Phil flinch from the sudden movement. “Welp, that was fun. Always happy to join my friend in a little morning cry, but I have to go to work.”

“Work? So I guess that whole ‘I’m quitting this fucking job’ thing didn’t work out, huh?” Phil taunts.

“Oh, shut up. I just said that because I was mad at that lady for calling my cupcake decorating ‘messy’ and ‘tasteless’. You know I love my job, Mr. I’ve Been Working On This Book For Two Years,” Dan shoots back, crossing his arms. “And also I have no other talents, so there’s really no other option.”

“Unless you count your ability to make horribly dirty jokes a talent,” Phil says as Dan slings his backpack over his shoulder and makes his way to the door.

“Ah, of course! How could I forget? I’ll be back tonight with more of my show-stopping comedy and a box of cakes,” Dan says, stopping at the front door and bowing like a prince.

Phil laughs, rolling his eyes again as Dan spins on his heel and leaves.

Phil relaxes back into the couch and his eyes eventually wander back toward the memory box sat on the other side of the couch. The box is the only physical connection that Phil still has to the boy he once loved, other than the few trinkets laying around the house. Phil knew he couldn’t throw away the files of memories in his brain, but he could throw this away.

\---

Standing next to the garbage bin at the back of his apartment building, Phil opens the memories once more. He scans his eyes across the flashy glitter and the blood-red ribbon and heart.

“Sayonara, memories and glitter that’ll probably never go away,” Phil says under his breath as he tosses the box into the bin. “And safe travels to you, Peej.”

\---

dan 18:22

_hey bitch what do you want_

 

you 18:24

_???_

 

dan 18:24

_cupcakes and all that. do you remember crying over pj this morning and i said i’d bring you some things_

 

you 18:25

_Oh yeah haha_

_Um I’ll have red velvet if you have some and whatever else you want_

 

dan 18:30

_k i got it i’ll be there soon_

\---

About ten minutes after receiving Dan’s text, Phil hears the click of of his front door unlocking and heavy feet making their way toward the lounge.

“Delivery for sad, gay emo?” Dan yells from the doorway of the lounge.

“Ah, yes, that would be me!” Phil says, raising his hand up and waving Dan over.

Dan jumps onto the couch and sets a white and gold pastry box between them. Phil’s eyes widen as he sees the neatly decorated cupcakes and red-and-pink doughnuts, which Phil assumed were for Valentine’s Day.

“I brought you your red velvet cupcakes, as per usual,” Dan says as he points to the pastries. “And also some regular cake doughnuts because, not to brag, but they’re amazing.”

“Oh my god, they look amazing. Thank you so much, Dan.” Phil eagerly grabs one of the cupcakes. His eyes light up as he takes a bite. It’s sugary and will probably give him a stomach ache after the second one, but he desperately needed something like this.

Dan shakes his head and a dimpled grin spreads across his face. “Want to watch something?”

Phil nods, his mouth full and bright white frosting smeared across his top lip.

They end up deciding on Castle in the Sky. Phil has never seen it, or at least he doesn’t remember ever seeing it, and Dan’s friend at the bakery had been telling him to watch it for the past month or so.

Like every Ghibli film, it’s filled to the brim with whimsical music and stunning art. But also, it’s long. Phil wants to pay attention to every beautiful detail, but he constantly finds his mind wandering and his eyes moving away from the television.

Quite often, he realizes, his gaze lands on Dan. Sometimes, Dan is spilling doughnut crumbs across his jumper and fidgeting with the blanket on his lap. Other times, however, he’s transfixed on the screen, the colors and shapes of the film reflecting off his eyes and his brow furrowed in concentration.

Phil had to make a conscious decision to stop letting his mind wander, but his lack of concentration soon turned into drowsiness, and drowsiness turned to his head sinking into the pillow resting behind his head.

The tune of piano music coming from the TV is cut off eventually. There’s shifting and movement next to Phil and then a soft blanket is being draped over his curled-up body.

\---

“G’morning,” a voice says, seemingly from nowhere.

“Wh-” Phil groans. He has no idea where he is, but his neck and back feel like they’ve been snapped in half. He yawns as he stretches his arms above his head and straightens his legs. In doing so, he almost rolls off of what he realizes is the couch. It creaks underneath him and he hears the bones in his shoulders crack. As he peels open his eyelids, he sees light flooding in through half-opened curtains and then a man sitting next to the coffee table. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Wow. Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” Dan says, shoving Phil’s shoulder.

Phil ignores Dan’s comment and pushes himself upright, more bones popping in the process. He rubs his eyes and reaches for his glasses on the coffee table, barely able to locate them in the dim lighting.

When he puts his glasses on, he’s finally able to process his surroundings. He’s in the lounge, Dan sitting on the floor scrolling through something on his phone with a coffee cup in his right hand, the screen illuminating his face.

“I slept in your room, by the way,” Dan says nonchalantly, making Phil blink in surprise. “Cleaner than I thought it would be.”

“Um, excuse me?” Phil says, voice gravelly from sleep. Dan barely suppresses a grin as he looks up to see Phil’s offended expression.

Before Phil can ask if Dan made him coffee too, he stands up suddenly, telling Phil to wait. _It’s too early for this,_ Phil thinks, but he stays in his place.

Dan comes back with a small, flat box wrapped in shiny red paper and a messily-tied, black ribbon. He shoves it towards Phil, who takes it hesitantly. Phil turns the box around in his hand, bewildered by the gift and wondering _why on earth did Dan get me a present?_

“I know it’s weird and I always say how much I hate Valentine’s Day and shit like that,” Dan laughs, seemingly more out of discomfort than anything, “But I’ve been meaning to give you something like this for a really long time so, I dunno… I just hope you like it.”

Phil looks up at Dan, whose eyes are fixed on his own fidgeting fingers resting on a bouncing knee.

“Wow, um, thank you, Dan,” Phil says. “I really appreciate it. Really.”

Dan finally makes eye contact with Phil, his chocolate eyes are wide but he manages a smile. They stare at each other for several moments, probably a few too long, until Dan speaks again.

“I have to go, sorry,” Dan says as he sets his coffee cup on the table. “You know Valentine’s Day, it’s gonna be crazy at the bakery today.”

After quiet goodbyes and the sound of a door closing, Phil is left on the couch with the scarlet present perched on his lap.

Phil sucks in a deep breath before pulling off the ribbon and unwrapping the present with unusual care. The sound of crinkling paper feels ten times louder than it should be in the empty apartment, and once the wrapping is tossed to the side, a plain white box is left.

Phil lifts the top off the box, no longer hesitant as he reasoned that it couldn’t be anything bad if it was coming from Dan. He freezes, however, when he sees the contents of the gift.

Laying in the center of the shallow box is an envelope. An envelope adorned with red and gold glitter, precisely placed silver heart stickers, and a curly _PHIL_ written on the front.

Dan knows what letters mean to Phil. Phil absolutely adores hand-made letters, present, things of that sort.

That may have been why Phil loved PJ so much, their minds so alike in creativity. PJ’s love letters to Phil were incredible. Every single one was special in its own way. From the expressive poems to the little drawings to the decorations on the envelopes. Phil cherished all of the letters PJ gave to him and that’s why they carried so much emotional weight. That’s why Phil had to get rid of them all in such a dramatic manner.

So, sitting in the crease of his couch, barely awake, and blood rushing in his ears, Phil can hardly believe his eyes when he sees a hand-crafted letter addressed to Phil that came from the hands of Dan Howell.

Phil’s hand are trembling and his heart feels like it’s trying to escape his chest as he cautiously opens the envelope and pulls out the letter concealed within.

Phil’s mind is screaming, everything inside and around him feels tense.

This letter is not just a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day! Sorry about your break-up, get well soon’ card. It’s a full-blown confession.

Phil has to read it nearly fifteen times in order to fully absorb and understand what it’s saying, it’s all too much on such a small sheet of paper.

One section is what catches Phil up and causes him to almost forget what breathing is. It’s the last few lines, and it’s like a ton of bricks hitting Phil. A ton of bricks that make Phil realise why Dan acted how he did toward PJ for the many months they dated. Why Dan seemed to be so kind to Phil, but also so distant:

 

_I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted toward you and PJ. I know this isn’t what you you want to hear on Valentine’s Day, and especially right now, but I just couldn’t not tell you. I’m sorry for kind of wishing that you and PJ would break up. Not just because I thought it was better for you, but because I wanted it. I wanted you. Phil, I’ve wanted you for such a long time. And if by any miracle you do too, that would be… it would be a miracle._

_I’m sorry. So goddamn sorry._

_\- Dan_

 

Phil feels like he’s sinking and drowning and he can’t breathe. It’s all suffocating him, it’s just all so much. How is he supposed to respond if he can barely understand how he feels about his breakup? But how is he supposed to say no, and potentially break Dan’s heart into thousands of pieces? He can’t lie, though, Phil can’t lie to save Dan’s heart because what if it all turns out wrong and there’s nothing left to salvage?

Phil reaches for his phone and quickly taps out a text to Dan before he can overthink everything.

you 9:02

_I’m sorry too_

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Love Letters  
> Author/Artist: (me) hunnyhowlter  
> Pairings: Dan and Phil  
> Rating: Everyone  
> Summary: He can’t throw a lighted match onto something already searing holes through his skull.  
> Notes: Thank you so much to nqkedbooths for beta reading my fic! I can't thank you enough. Also special thanks to my friend Jamila for encouraging me throughout this whole process. This is part of the V-Day Fic Fest from phandomficfests on tumblr! So of course, thank you to those who organized and helped everyone throught their writing process as well.


End file.
